


Shiryō

by The Bald Unicorn (KokoroJunnayai)



Series: The Ghosts of Takashi Shirogane [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Astral Plane, Black is female because shut up, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Kuron deserved better, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Shiro is a ghost, from after he died, shiro as black paladin forever, shiro's pov, until season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 02:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15809607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KokoroJunnayai/pseuds/The%20Bald%20Unicorn
Summary: Shiryō (死霊) - 死 (dead) +霊 (spirit); Soul of the Dead; a Ghost.There is nothing left of Shiro's body, his corporeal form. There is nothing to pour Shiro back into.“I'm a ghost.” He thinks aloud once. More than once.Black doesn't understand the word but she sees his mind, sees his pain, and mourns with him.They weep as one for what has been lost.





	Shiryō

At first, Shiro fights.

 

He's upset, angry – no, _furious –_ in a way he hasn't let himself be in a very long time.

 

He feels like he's earned it. They were so close to cutting off the head of Galran empire, so close to a ten-thousand year old emperor laying dead at their feet.

The astral plane has nothing but himself and the Black Lion and an endless expanse of stars, and so he rages at nothing, at her, at himself, for time beyond measure.

 

She saved him. Lions don't speak, not even sentient mechanical lions, but they trade emotions and concepts back and forth. He screams at her. He yells. He begs her to take him back, to make this right, to help them _win_ something, for _once_ –

 

And she rumbles in his mind, the feelings of _protectionworrylove_ rumbling with her.

 

This isn't her fault.

 

All the same, Shiro has a team – a family – out there and they need him.

 

The living do not suffer death lightly, and neither does Shiro, not at first.

 

He needs to leave. He needs to go home.

 

So he fights.

 

 

 

 

 

_*_

 

 

Shiro doesn't have a corporeal form. He doesn't need food or water or warmth or sleep.

 

Still, his will weakens eventually. He can't sob forever. He can't hold onto his rage forever. If time could be grasped, could be known in the astral plane, he might've been ashamed of how quickly his passion dimmed, or he might've been embarrassed at how long he childishly threw a tantrum for.

 

It scares him, that he can't tell. He could've been in here for years. He could've been in here _decades_.

 

In this vast, meaningless landscape, Black Lion is his only tether, his only shelter. She purrs at him, offering reassurance. It hasn't been decades. It hasn't been years.

 

She doesn't think of time as humans or even as Alteans do, but she shows him images of the other Paladins and they don't seem to have aged.

 

Almost reluctantly, she shows him their faces and passes on their _fear_ and _confusion_ and _grief_ as, in her most recent memory, they stood inside a vacant cockpit and asked for Shiro.

 

“How long ago was this?” He asks breathlessly. Keith's small _'Shiro?'_ echoes in his mind, each reverberation squeezing his heart tighter and tighter until he curls in on himself and waits for it to burst.

 

He's letting him down. He's letting them all down. They need him and he isn't there.

 

The Black Lion feels his pain. She wants to help and pushes a feeling of _calm_ through their bond until Shiro relaxes, opens his eyes again.

 

“How long, Black? Does...do they think I'm dead?” A thought occurs to him. “Am I? Am I...dead?”

 

_Saved_ , Black insists, her essence blanketing his. _Protected_. _Not gone_.

 

But underneath her projected thoughts is the idea that he is supposed to be gone. Black saved him, but...she didn't save _all_ of him.

 

Black rumbles at him, approaching a roar.

 

_Saved_.

 

Shiro looks at the sky full of stars he can't reach and then down at translucent hands that can't touch and he wonders, somewhat hysterically,

_Saved me for what_?

 

 

 _*_

 

 

 

 

Shiro drifts, for a time.

 

If he thinks about it too long, he'll start screaming again, so he doesn't, and instead chooses to rest at Black's side.

 

It'd be different, if there was something to fight. If there were an enemy here, or a way to escape, or anything he could actually, physically lay his hands on –

 

It'd be different.

 

But Shiro can't fight this time. He can't escape. He can't touch a damn thing.

 

_Rest_. Black roars at him when he gets stuck in his helplessness. It's a comforting roar. White noise. A calming waterfall.

 

_Rest, my paladin._

 

Shiro is tired. So he does.

 

 

 

_*_

 

 

 

Shiro doesn't know what he loses first, or when it starts.

 

The feeling is not unlike forming Voltron. He and Black are tied together. Shiro and she circle one another, like the moon to the Earth, or the Earth to the sun.

 

But then they begin to overlap. Black holds his soul in place and he doesn't know if time tightens her grip or if he's slipping, and this is her struggling not to let go.

 

Her thoughts are more understandable. Memories of the other paladins trickle into him. Memories of other times. He knows what Zarkon looked like when he smiled; he feels the joy and power Black felt while Zarkon was her Paldin; he feels the sorrow, the anger, as their bond weakened.

 

Shiro doesn't remember learning these things. Between one moment and the next, they sit neatly in his mind.

 

 

Black is quicker to soothe him now. She knows what thoughts start downward spirals, what memories stir up guilt and shame, how thoughts of the team make him hopeful and bitter all at once.

 

 

Shiro understands that she can't undo this, not because she is trying to keep him safe – Black would have him happy and next to her in _his_ plane, whatever the consequences, if she could – but because she doesn't know how.

 

There is nothing left of Shiro's body, his corporeal form. There is nothing to pour Shiro back into.

 

“I'm a ghost.” He thinks aloud once. More than once.

 

Black doesn't understand the word but she sees his mind, sees his pain, and mourns with him.

 

They weep as one for what has been lost.

 

_*_

 

 

 

Eventually, he opens his eyes and he sees something new. He opens _her_ eyes and he _is_ Black and it's something new so he welcomes it.

 

It's...weird. He has a body again, but it's nothing like he's used to. Black doesn't have nerves or blood or lungs – she inhabits each bolt individually and at the same time, her awareness is centered to something beyond the material.

 

Shiro figures out how to move around and realizes he's not actually the Black Lion, even if he's getting closer. If he's a ghost now, he merely haunts her.

 

He can't leave her.

 

He can rest against her head and just make out the Castle's hanger through her vision. He can sit in the pilot's chair. He can walk the interior and trail his fingers against the walls. It's gratifying to know that, even though he can't feel it, it translates to something in their bond, and _she_ can.

 

Maybe he can't affect what he wants, but someone knows he's there. Someone can still see him.

 

For hours, he'll sit in the pilot's seat, arms locked around knees tucked into his chest, or he'll lay limbs splayed out on the floor, and wish sensation into himself. He closes his eyes and pretends cold metal presses into his back. He pretends Black is flying, is moving around him. He pretends he can hear Keith and Lance and Hunk and Pidge and Allura over the coms.

 

He pretends they are about to form Voltron and he will be as far from alone as he's ever felt.

 

 

Eventually, the Black Lion, tired and frustrated with her Paladin, pulls him back to the Astral Plane and pins him there, tells him to sleep. It seems letting Shiro haunt reality drains her.

 

Shiro is equally tired and frustrated with life. He snaps, a little.

 

Even though he understands her better now, he begins to yell at her like he had in the beginning. He feels her _confusion_ and _love_ and _indignation_ and he fights against it.

 

No one has stepped foot in Black since he's learned to appear there and Shiro _aches_.

 

“You should've let me go!” He screams at her. “Why did you save me?”

 

The Black Lion growls through their bond, like a great being slowly flicking their eyes open and showing a bit of teeth.

 

_Mine_. She tells him. _You are_ my _Paladin. Not allowed to go._

 

He sees tears drip from his eyes and wishes he could feel them on his face, on his fingers. He wishes he could see his team again, just for a moment.

 

He wishes he were alive again. He wishes he was dead.

 

“You should've let me go.”

 

Disagreement glimmers in her mind.

 

_Mine_. She repeats. _Rest_.

 

Shiro, guilty and hurt, turns away from her. He disobeys her.

 

Nebulae and constellations border his world and don't so much as twitch or gleam, not ever, nothing ever changes here, and Shiro's _angry_ but more than anything he's _sick_ of this half-existence.

 

It takes too much energy to stay mad. Or maybe time gets the better of him.

 

Shiro doesn't know, can't know.

 

“What good am I to them like this?” He wonders after forever and no time at all. “What good am I to anyone?”

 

There's no answer. All the Black Lion can offer is her presence, but it doesn't feel like it's enough.

 

Shiro tries, just a little longer, to pretend.

 

 

 

_*_

 

 

Shiro can't sleep, but resting is close. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't heal. It doesn't feel like anything.

 

He's jolted back to full awareness by the Black Lion eagerly flooding his mind with images and voices.

 

_Paladins_. She says, showing him her vision of small humans and Alteans in multicolored armor standing in front of her. _Team. Family. Paladins._

 

Black tugs him back into reality like a child excitedly pulling their parent somewhere fun and when Shiro blinks, he's standing in the cockpit.

 

Allura comes in first. He can feel every footstep vibrate through his being. It's nearly uncomfortable but it's _sensation_ and Shiro clings to it.

 

He clings to the sight of her.

 

“It's good to see you again, Princess.” He says. He doesn't have a heartbeat anymore – yet something echoes in his ears as he hopes against hope. He's a ghost, but she's an Altean with some sort of _magic_ and maybe, just maybe –

 

She ignores him. Passes through him without any falter of her steps. Shiro blinks back crushing disappointment.

 

“I'm glad you're well.” He says, when the lump in his throat finally fades. And he is glad. He wanted to see them all again.

 

He didn't want it quite like this, but...it's something.

 

 

Allura can't hear him, obviously, and doesn't respond. She's busy putting her hands on the controls.

 

“Oh. Of course.” Shiro thinks aloud. “It's time to choose another Black Paladin.”

 

Black growls through their bond, not at Allura herself but at the need.

 

_Mine_ , Black continues to insist. _You are my Paladin_.

 

Shiro blinks and shakes his head. There's no hiding his resignation, his slight sense of rejection, his sadness from her. He doesn't like this either. Still, there's bigger things at stake.

 

“Black, they need someone. They need to be able to form Voltron.”

 

She sees that he's right and yet insists on projecting a sense of _temporary_ into his mind. She pushes, over and over, the concept of _Shiro_ and _mine_.

 

Then, a sense of humor trickles in as Black looks in and immediately turns away from Allura.

 

_No._ Black thinks. _The Princess cannot fly me_.

 

Shiro wonders if he should push. Allura is a good leader after all. But – but Keith can fly Black. He will make a good leader.

 

“As long as you choose someone.” Shiro shrugs, watching Allura walk out. The Princess looks disappointed and a spike of guilt hits him.

 

Black brushes it away, _I choose, not you. She cannot fly me. Her quintessence is...wrong._

 

Shiro is curious.

 

“Quintessence? You can see that? Can you – can you show me?”

 

There's a sense of amusement again from Black as she agrees.

 

_Here_. _Look._

 

And Shiro tries.

 

Pidge comes in next. It feels good to see Pidge again, although he feels bad about laughing (she can't reach the controls), and knows right away, with Black, that she can't fly Black either. He begins to understand about the quintessence, although he has no doubt Black can sense it much better than he can.

 

When he squints, he can see it just below their skin and Pidge's is vibrant green. It's the soft green of grass, the neon yellow-green of computers. It swims and flows and shifts, but it's always something bright and green.

 

He finds himself hoping Allura will come back and try again, just so he can see what her quintessence would look like. What if someone can't fly any lion? What color would it be then? Or what if they could fly two or three lions? He's not sure.

 

It's funny, but Shiro doesn't think he'd need the Black Lion's vision to know Hunk's quintessence. It's gold, as warm and bright as the sun. It's just – _Hunk_. It's beautiful.

 

Shiro comforts himself with the fact that Allura and Pidge and Hunk look well. They don't look older and Shiro wishes, more than once, he could ask them how long he's been gone. Weeks? Months?

 

He wishes he could talk to them. He wishes he could comfort them, especially Lance, who seems the most broken up about not being able to fly Black.

 

Weirdly enough, Shiro thinks his quintessence isn't pure blue, ocean blue, like Shiro had thought, but blue mixed with violet. It's shifting even as he examines it. He thinks of gradients, of blood mixing with water.

 

“Huh. Maybe...Red?” He says as he blinks at a frustrated Lance.

 

The Black Lion agrees it's possible.

 

The hardest to watch is Keith, although Shiro is overjoyed almost to tears to see him again.

 

Keith looks...okay. He – there's a tense set to his shoulders and a hesitant, almost scared slowness to his feet, to his hands, but he's alive and he's here.

 

It's clear to Shiro that Keith doesn't want this. But his quintessence is dark red and edged with black. Black presses _temporary_ into Shiro's mind again and activates.

 

_He will do_. She thinks with a low purr.

 

“I always thought so.” He retorts, relieved beyond measure that he hasn't left the Team without another Black Paladin, without a chance of ever forming Voltron again.

 

But Shiro glances back to find that Keith is devastated. He looks pale.

 

“Please, no...”

 

His hands tremble.

 

“Keith, you can do this.” Shiro says. “I know you can.”

 

“I don't want this...” Keith whispers to himself.

 

Automatically, Shiro tries to put a hand on Keith's shoulder, tries to offer him comfort, and stumbles when he sinks straight through him.

 

Shiro swallows hard, stepping back.

 

“Black, I can't...” He closes his eyes and fights back tears. “Please, can you – ”

 

Black understands and agrees to send _warmthlovepeace_ through the newer bond with Keith, consoling them both as best she can.

 

Keith shrugs it off. Shiro sees him do it, a near physical motion.

 

Then his brother walks out of the Black Lion to the Team and Shiro's small window into their lives fades out again.

 

It's more than he had before.

 

It's still not enough.

 

It'll never be enough.

 

 

“Look out for him?” Shiro hates how small he sounds. “I can't, anymore, and sometimes he gets a little reckless.”

 

_He's mine too_. She hums, drawing him gently back into the astral plane. _I protect what's mine._

 

He shuts his eyes and loses himself in her steady stream of _mine_ and _love_ and _safe_.

 

“Thank you.” He says.

 

She purrs louder.

_*_

 

 

 

In a strange way, it is peaceful here.

 

You could look at the utter silence and stillness and feel alone, feel disturbed, like the eerie, empty sensation of an abandoned town, but under a different light, the astral plane is calm. It's the perfect stillness of a lake, the serene quiet of a remote place.

 

With a bit of prodding from Black, Shiro chooses to see it as the latter.

 

“I can't remember the last time I had a vacation.” He mentions to Black at one point.

 

He lays on his back, hands beneath his neck, and gazes up at the stars.

 

Black can appear as different things in the astral plane – today she is in the form of an earth lion, coat midnight black, body bigger than Shiro, bigger than a car. Her form could've filled the entire castle bridge, he thinks idly.

 

A being so powerful might've terrified him, not so long ago.

 

That thought, when it occurs, amuses them both.

 

“Osaka.” He says suddenly, he says slowly. “I took a trip to Japan to visit my grandfather, five...six? Maybe six years ago. That was my last real vacation.”

 

Black lifts her head and purrs an inquiry.

 

“Vacations are...it's rest. It's taking a break from responsibilities and just...doing something peaceful.”

 

Black purrs more intensely. She understands rest.

 

It should look funny, a giant beast curled up like a house-cat, but Black's eyes hold galaxies and she maintains her majesty, even like this.

 

Shiro sighs and lets his eyes drift closed.

 

“It could be worse, I guess. I did always love space.”

 

_It is beautiful_. Black says, which makes Shiro smile, eyes still shut.

 

He hadn't known the lions thought of concepts like _beauty_.

 

Images flash through his mind like a power point, one after another of planets and solar systems and asteroids and _Altea_ and the most beautiful sights Black has ever seen.

 

They are all amazing. They all glow in his mind.

 

Shiro smiles a little wider and looks over at Black, who seems smug.

 

“Show me again?” He asks.

 

She does.

 

_*_

 

 

Shiro doesn't forget anything. Everything he remembered on the day that he died is still fresh and vivid in his mind, in her mind ( _in their mind_ ) _._

 

Yet – he doesn't know if it's his imagination, or the truth – he feels like he's fading.

 

He drifts more often than not. The Black Lion doesn't nag him to rest, anymore, because she doesn't need to. He curls up by her essence and doesn't move for as long as he can.

 

There's nothing to do but rest and Shiro has been tired for _years_.

 

At first, Black will nudge him when Keith flies her, so Shiro can appear in the cockpit and watch. At first it's enough, even if it feels like shrapnel piercing his lungs, for Shiro to stand behind Keith and observe.

 

It's nice to hear the others' voices over the coms. It's good to see Keith.

 

But they are always in danger, or struggling to form Voltron, or – or –

 

Shiro hates feeling helpless. It's a special sort of torture, watching over his family yet unable to do anything to protect them.

 

They make it out of missions alive. They start to work better as a team. It left him proud, the first time he realized that Allura was flying a lion, that Lance had stepped up to be Keith's number two.

 

 

But it still hurts. It hurts to be left behind. It hurts to see Keith mourn him.

 

It hurts to stand amidst them, to watch his imitation of someone still living get stripped away in the presence of the real thing.

 

Shiro is nothing but a ghost now.

 

Why pretend to be anything else, he thinks.

 

 

So he lets himself drift away and it's almost how he imagined being at peace would be like.

 

_*_ 

 

 

Once, after years of drifting, after moments of silence ( _after no time at all_ ), he asks.

 

“Do you think I could talk to Keith through our bond?”

 

Black can communicate, roughly, with her paladins, just as the other lions can. When Shiro was alive, he got flashes of emotion occasionally, or even more rarely, visions. Never words. Never concepts.

 

 

Not until she drove their bond deeper and sunk her teeth into his soul.

 

 

Perhaps Keith's bond is better, though. Perhaps Black could try harder.

 

Shiro isn't concerned with telling them where he is, because he sees no point. They can't make him a new body.

 

They can't see him or touch him.

 

No, there's no rescue for him even if they knew were he was – he's still dead.

 

Still...he would like to say goodbye. He'd like to tell Keith not to blame himself. He'd like Keith to know, one last time, how proud Shiro is of him.

 

Black growls curiously at the question, unsure of the answer but willing to try.

 

He passes on his goodbye in less words than he thought it would take. Somehow, trying to sum up a friendship, a lifetime, leaves him stuttering and succinct.

 

“Tell Keith I'm sorry. That he did...everything he could to save me and this – this isn't his fault. Tell him I'm proud. I've always been proud. I never had siblings but,” Shiro thinks he's crying again, thinks it doesn't matter here anyway. “He's always been a brother to me. I love him.”

 

Words flow through the Black Lion and trickle through the filter of the lion/paladin bond, first twisting into disjointed concepts and feelings, then as something akin to projectiles that Black launches Keith's way. Only a few of those emotions actually reach Keith. Almost everything is lost to translation.

 

All of his heartfelt goodbye, stripped of all meaning.

 

Without meaning to, Shiro finds himself sinking deeper into numbness.

 

_The bond is too new_. Black says, apologetic. _He can't hear. He won't be able to understand._

 

Shiro closes his eyes.

 

His mouth feels dry.

 

“It's okay. It was worth a try.”

 

 

 

 

 

_*_

 

 

 

 

 

 

When they find another Shiro, it makes him sit up.

 

Literally. He's been curled up on his side for eons, now, for months. For no time at all.

 

_Mine?_ Black says, but with a tinge of confusion.

 

“That's not me, Black.” He says. It's like stepping into another room to go from the astral plane to reality – and it feels like a door slamming shut on his lungs, to see Keith teary but glad, an unconscious man resembling Shiro in his arms.

 

“That's not _me_ , Keith.” He whispers.

 

_You are mine_ , Black knows, but growls a little. _He is mine. He is my paladin too. He is Shiro._

 

Shiro walks away. He pours his fury through their bond.

 

“He's _not me_.” He hisses. It's unclear who or what that man is, but Shiro knows at least that.

 

It stings that Black doesn't.

 

For the first time since she saved him, he runs as far away from her as he can.

 

It's no better than stepping back to arms-length from a tight embrace – no real space at all – but he knows it hurts her all the same. Good.

 

“He's _not_ me. That's...it has to be something Haggar did. A-a clone, or something.”

 

 

Black hums. It makes sense to her. Something about his energy, just like Shiro's, is faintly touched by the witch. It's nauseating for Shiro to consider.

 

 

_He thinks he's you_. Black lets him know. _He loves them. Just like you._

 

 

Shiro is dead. He doesn't need to breathe. He still finds himself gasping as he sobs, because this feels like something out of a nightmare.

 

He was trying to deal with being gone but now –

 

Now someone with his face takes his place on the team, laughs with his friends, comforts Keith –

 

Now someone with his face could hurt his friends at any moment –

 

Now he's been _replaced_ –

 

Now he really, truly feels like a ghost.

 

_*_

 

It's wrong of him to feel vindicated, when Black rejects the copy.

 

_He thinks he's you_. She reminds him in a scolding tone. But she knows how he feels and, in deference, shuts the copy out.

 

The clone looks crushed for a moment, though swiftly tries to hide it. It's what Shiro would do.

 

“He doesn't know he's a fake.” Shiro accepts that. “But he _is_ and who knows what Haggar did to him. The last thing the team needs is to lose the Black Lion.”

 

Black shudders at the thought of returning to Zarkon.

 

“Keith will fly you.” He says, reassuring her. “And we'll keep an eye on _him_.”

 

_*_

Keith is not aware of this plan.

 

Keith _leaves._

 

Keith forces Shiro to hand over the last remaining piece of his identity to someone who can't be trusted, someone who wears his face and is trusted implicitly.

 

Black knows his concerns and comforts him with,

 

_He thinks he's you._

 

And,

 

_I don't sense the witch's control yet._

 

And,

 

_He loves them too_.

 

Shiro is more helpless than he's ever been.

 

All he can do now is watch and hope.

 

It's agony.

 

_*_

 

 

 

Shiro is slipping –

 

Black refuses to let go –

 

They wait. They watch.

 

_*_

 

 

 

Shiro edges back from the connection when the clone tries to bond with them. They – no, _Black_ – work with him, accept him, let him form Voltron.

 

But they already have a Paladin. They won't let the bond deepen. They won't summon wings for him. This is a substitution, not a fix.

 

_Mine,_ The Black Lion tells him over and over.

 

_Mine_. Shiro echoes.

 

They won't let go.

 

 _*_

 

They talk, to pass the time.

 

Shiro will stand in the cockpit and make sure the copy is still being Shiro and he'll talk to Black.

 

It's funny, how they slip.

 

Sometimes he calls Keith 'Red', or Pidge 'Green'. Sometimes Black sounds like she's laughing instead of roaring in his mind.

 

Sometimes they say – _Shiro_ says, _Black_ says – 'we', instead of 'I'.

 

Shiro hasn't forgotten a thing, but he doesn't remember what it feels like not to have Black constantly in his head. Must be lonely, they muse.

 

No thought goes unheard through their minds. It's always a back-and-forth, a push and pull of emotions; _annoyance_ and _calm_ ; _guilt_ and _love_ ; _longing_ and _reassurance_.

 

They think of family, of metal lions and souls, of tiny, fragile humans. They think of how to keep them safe.

 

What crosses their minds most often is _protection_ and _love_ and _protection_ and _love_ and _love_ and _love_ and _love_ –

 

_*_ 

 

 

 

 

 

“How many times are you going to save me?” Shiro remembers, Black remembers.

 

_As many times as it takes,_ Red answers, Black answers.

 

This feels like one time too many.

 

 

_*_

 

 

 

 

They haven't seen Red ( _Keith_ ) since he left. They hope – Shiro hopes – he's safe.

 

They hope the copy calls him and reminds him to eat.

 

They hope he's just _not dead_.

 

There are worse things than death, Shiro thinks.

 

Black sweeps the bitter thought away.

 

_*_

 

It's a special sort of irony to be part of the most powerful weapon in the galaxy and still feel utterly powerless.

 

They don't think it's funny _(Shiro laughs at it anyway)._

 

 

 

_*_

 

 

 

 

“Shiro?”

 

It catches them off-guard, seeing Lance.

 

Black hadn't known any paladin could reach Shiro.

 

Shiro feels dazed. He hasn't seen anyone in decades – no one has seen him in _lifetimes_ – and he panics for a moment.

 

Panic is what he remembers drowning feels like. He'd forgotten how visceral emotions could be.

 

“Lance! Lance, listen – ” He says. “I died. I'm dead and the Shiro with you is a clone – ”

 

Maybe his sense of time is distorted but it feels like he blinks and Lance is gone. He's _gone_.

 

“– don't...trust him.” Shiro says uselessly. “Did he hear me at all?”

 

_Perhaps, little paladin._ Black says. She sounds doubtful.

 

Shiro _feels_ doubtful.

 

“How – how could he see us? How was he _here_ , on the astral plane?”

 

_The Paladins used their bayards simultaneously. They all used their power to access the astral plane to drive their bonds deeper._

 

“But we only saw Blue – _Lance_.”

 

Black huffs, not impatient, but considering.

 

_Blue sometimes sees what others do not. Where Red is instinct, Blue is intuition._

 

Lance could be reckless like Keith, but while Keith's social skills tend to lack, Lance is fairly people-smart. He's empathetic. He can read a room.

 

Shiro isn't sure how that translates to being the only one to spot him on the astral plane. Still, maybe Lance heard something. Maybe he could figure this out.

 

“With Keith gone, he'd probably be the first to notice something off with the clone.” He muses, then blinks. “ _Is_ there something off with the clone? Does he act different than me?”

 

_He still believes himself to be you_. Black reminds him.

 

She plays memories, scenes she's borrowed from the copy through their bond, and shows him moments of coldness, of irritation, of a harsh voice.

 

_He regrets them_. Black says. _He is not made of patience. He breaks, too._

 

Shiro wonders what he would do in these situations, stressed, with a headache, running on low sleep. He knows he's snapped a few times too.

 

Black offers no judgment.

 

They wonder, together, if this copy is a perfect Shiro or a Shiro with faults.

 

They wonder if anyone would notice either way.

 

They get tired of wondering and Shiro chooses, instead, to play the moment of seeing Lance _really there_ in his mind again and again.

 

He smiles, a little.

 

It made him feel _alive_.

 

 

_*_

 

 

They feel it, this time.

 

Shiro slips another inch. He fades a little more.

 

_As many times as it takes_ , they roar, Black roars.

 

_You are_ my _paladin_ , they promise, Black promises.

 

Shiro holds on.

 

Lance found him once, he could do it again –

 

Shiro could say goodbye properly –

 

He could warn them –

 

He clings to Black and ignores the sensation of falling.

 

There's a bit of hope, now.

 

 

 

 

_*_

 

 

 

Shiro can't remember what warmth felt like. He remembers the sun. He knows thousands of suns, every one he and Black have seen. He could name them all, too.

 

Warmth itself, though, escapes him. He thinks it's the same feeling as a hug, as a good laugh, as smiles traded among friends. The feeling continues to elude him.

 

It's – it's the absence of cold, he thinks finally, struggling.

 

He finds he's forgotten cold, as well. He turns over his past in his hands, trying to find a new definition for cold. It's...a turned back, he thinks, a full-body shiver, loneliness seeping into your core.

 

He thinks these things because that's what memory tells him, but they are just words. In this plane without sensation, they mean nothing to him the same way aqua and violet and slate mean nothing to someone born blind.

 

The closest to warmth he can get is Black purring in his ear, tucking him close, and sending affection down their bond.

 

Shiro doesn't remember if it's the same. He doesn't remember if it feels like warmth at all.

 

But...cold, he thinks. Cold must feel like this – hope, trickling drop by drop through his fingertips.

 

 

 

 

_*_

 

 

 

 

When something goes wrong with the clone, they aren't surprised. They are sad.

 

They feel his pain. They feel an outside force digging into his brain.

 

Shiro wanted to hate him, but finds himself pitying him instead. He finds a spot of anger and grief somewhere in his soul for this man who believes himself Shiro. Maybe he isn't, but he does love the team and –

 

“Nobody deserves that _._ ” They say, Shiro says. He turns away from the screams rippling through Black's bond.

 

They can't help him. They can't save him.

 

A man calling himself Shiro has his free will clawed out of his head and they roar in fury, Black roars, but she cannot keep the witch at bay.

 

Black already clutches one Shiro in her maw. She hasn't the power to hold them both.

 

“Save him.” Shiro says softly. “Let me go. They need a Shiro and I'm – I'm dead. I'm gone.”

 

_Mine_ , Black repeats. _You are both mine. Both._

 

Then regret flows, too much time has passed. _It's too late now. The witch controls him._

 

And just like that, they have a new reason to mourn. They fear for their family, for little Red, especially.

 

They fear Haggar has ruined the name _Shiro_ for good. They fear – they fear –

 

 

 

Keith steps foot into the Black Lion and Shiro feels thin, feels tired, but...happy. No, not happy – satisfied, maybe.

 

Keith doesn't look broken. He doesn't look injured. Perhaps no lasting damage has been done to his team, to his brother, to his _family._

 

“We're going to get him back.” Keith says to Black.

 

It's a promise that they don't know if he can keep.

 

They'll help him try, all the same.

 

 

_*_

 

 

They save him. They'll always save Keith.

 

“He never looks after himself.” Shiro says. It's supposed to be a joke but he's forgotten how to inflect to make it sound like one.

 

It doesn't matter. Black senses his intent. They feel the regret behind it – they saved Keith and the man calling himself Shiro from death by impact, but they both look worse for wear.

 

Shiro feels a tug, suddenly.

 

It's familiar. It's –

 

“Keith? Keith?”

 

He materializes in the astral plane and _hopes_ –

 

Hope is futile here, nothing but what he remembers pain to feel like –

 

He hopes all the same, praying, pleading, _just one more moment_ –

 

And like a dream, there he is. Back in his red paladin armor, a little taller, a new scar across his cheek, a horrible wariness in his eyes. Someone he thinks is Shiro hurt him and the team. But he's _here_.

 

“Shiro? Show yourself!”

 

Joy makes Shiro feel exhausted. He's wanted to see him for so long, to explain, to say goodbye – and now he has his chance.

 

He fades even more and clings harder than he ever has to Black.

 

“I know things must be confusing for you.” He says. There's a sense of not being able to catch his breath – which is ridiculous because he has no lungs, he _doesn't_ breathe – but mostly he just aches with weariness.

 

Souls aren't made to survive like this forever, they know. But they've stayed, if only to say goodbye, and now they have their chance.

 

Strangely enough ( _not strange at all_ ), Keith looks like he's going to fight Shiro.

 

“Where is this place? Where are we?” He demands, voice cracking. “Y-you were trying to kill me!”

 

What is it that Shiro can't retain, can't remember until he sees someone living again – he feels hollow and ghostly, despite his happiness.

 

He feels...they feel like they've forgotten how to act human.

 

“The others – ” Keith wants to know. “Y-you said – ”

 

They realize Keith is whirling about, frightened and unable to see Shiro, and Black pushes more energy through them, makes him shine brighter in the space.

 

And Keith – Keith meets his eyes. Shiro wishes he could hug Keith. He wishes that Keith would let him.

 

He's _missed_ the kid.

 

“I'm not here to harm you. Everyone's fine.” He projects as much peace and calm as he can into his voice.

 

They know the team is fine because Black asks the other lions and they murmur and grumble and agree that they are still alive.

 

Whatever Haggar has done, she hasn't killed any Paladins, not yet.

 

“Let me explain,” They say, Shiro says, hoping Keith won't disappear like Lance did.

 

He doesn't. He _doesn't_.

 

This is how warmth feels, they remember, Shiro remembers. It's nice.

 

“The man that attacked you wasn't me.” He begins. “Since my fight with Zarkon, I've been _here_.”

 

“When you...disappeared?”

 

They nod.

 

“I – I didn't know where I was or how much time had passed. My body – my physical form was gone. I existed on another realm.”

 

Keith still doesn't understand and they pause only for a moment before saying the words, knowing they will hurt, knowing they must say them anyway,

 

“I died, Keith.”

 

 

Keith's eyes are wide. He's all grown up but it's hard, sometimes, not to still see him as a kid. Shiro regrets having left him so many times, his fault or not.

 

“Black – she somehow retained my essence.” Shiro doesn't fully understand it, Black can't fully explain it, only that they aren't letting him go.

 

“Is that where we are?” Keith asks. “The Black Lion's consciousness?”

 

Yes and no.

 

Shiro feels like he's dropping another few feet. This connection, anchoring two paladins in the astral plane, strains Black's power. She'll have to pull Keith back out soon. It's the same energy drain as when he lingers in reality too long, just in reverse – like working against gravity, against a current, holding them someplace they aren't meant to be.

 

He needs to finish up quickly.

 

“I tried to warn the others about the impostor on Olkarion – ” He did _try_. “But our connection wasn't strong enough. I don't think it's going to last much longer now, either. Keith, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I left, I never meant to – ”

 

They miss the moment Keith fades out. Shiro is speaking and then he's blinking, suddenly dizzy, and when he blinks again he's alone.

 

If it weren't for the Black Lion, Shiro would wonder if he dreamed up the whole thing.

 

Amusement passes between them both at the thought. They don't _dream_.

 

Shiro didn't say the word, but he gave Keith enough information.

 

_Was that goodbye?  
_

 

“It's all I'm gonna get.” Shiro knows, they know.

 

Shiro is slipping. Shiro is dead. Shiro is dying.

 

Black won't let him go but no one can hold on forever.

 

And that's alright. They've – _he's –_ made peace with that.

 

After seconds of rest, after years of dozing with Black's spirit around him, they do hear something, though. Shiro doesn't want to open his eyes. He listens, hoping to hear Keith again.

 

He does. Shiro's eyes fly open.

 

Keith is calling for him.

 

Keith...needs him?

 

_There's danger coming. We must get home before the Prince does._ Black thinks, Shiro thinks.

 

Energy and emotion surges as they speed up.

 

Shiro's already dead, but they aren't gone yet.

 

 

_*_

 

It's different, with something to fight for.

 

Shiro is a fighter, but he needs a cause. Keith and the team give him one.

 

He's still a ghost, yet he feels more solid than before as he rests a hand on Keith's shoulder and digs in deeper to Black's bond.

 

“He needs to get there faster. He needs – he needs to use the Wings.”

 

Black has no eyes to roll in reality. She conveys the feeling all the same.

 

He _needs to activate them._ She insists. _We need more energy._ He _must do it_.

 

Shiro thinks Keith sees him again, Shiro thinks he understands as they explain _how_ to use the wings, but he's not sure. He feels like his essence is flickering.

 

Then all three are channeling every drop of energy left into flying faster, into getting home, into getting there to _save them_ , and it feels like burning to a crisp.

 

It feels like his edges are turning to ash and crumbling, like his ghost is being exorcised.

 

Black strains and holds and roars and _roars_ –

 

 

 

 

 

Shiro blinks and he's floating aimlessly in the astral plane.

 

But he thinks they made it.

 

Black growls agreement.

 

They made it in time.

 

“You can do this, Keith.” Shiro says, slurred as he drifts. He doesn't know if Keith can hear him anymore. “I believe in you. Save our team.”

 

And, later, the Black Lion will wake him with contented purring, because they do.

 

They save the galaxy.

 

 

 

 

 

_*_

 

 

_Won't let go_.

 

“I know, Black. I'm falling anyway.”

 

_My paladin. I chose you. I won't let you go._

 

“You already saved me. You saved them. I just...thank you, for that.”

 

Black is older than he can comprehend but sounds childish as she clings, as she threatens to overcome death itself.

 

_I am made of magic and power, little paladin._ She declares. _And if I refuse to let you go, you won't fall._

 

Shiro thinks he laughs at that. It's difficult to tell. It's not funny anyway, but something about Black's stubbornness and determination in the face of impossible odds reminds him of Keith.

 

_I will never give up on you_. Black says. She echoes a phrase Shiro and Keith tell each other, snatching those memories and brandishing them like a sword before him the moment they flicker in Shiro's mind.

 

_He won't either_.

 

“Good.” Shiro thinks. “Maybe...maybe he can still save the other Shiro. Keith needs a Shiro.”

 

_He's nearly dead._ Black says softly. _He's beyond my reach._

 

Shiro feels Black's desperation, her strength, her waning power. It isn't fair. That thought is both of theirs.

 

“It's okay, Black. You saved me once. We knew this couldn't last forever.”

 

_Mine. Mine?_

 

“It's okay.”

 

 

 

Suddenly Shiro's vision goes pink. It's magic, something that would make his pulse go crazy if he still had one.

 

It's gentle, though. It's brighter and softer than Haggar's magic. This magic commands, heals planets, offers compassion for galaxies. This magic is pure _power_ tempered with control and kindness and it's breathtakingly beautiful.

 

_Princess_. Black says.

 

“Princess.” Shiro says.

 

_She knows I hold you. She asks to take you._ Black is surprised. _She says you will be safe._

 

Shiro didn't think he'd had the energy or will to be shocked and yet here he is.

 

_She has convinced me. I am letting you go, my paladin._

 

Shiro thinks to protest. He opens his mouth –

 

But Black unhooks her teeth from his soul and he's falling, he's _scared_ , he's moving, he doesn't know where he is –

 

His mind is so _empty,_ suddenly, so silent it makes his ears ring –

 

“Black?”

 

He doesn't know what's happening –

 

He doesn't know where he is –

 

 

_*_

 

 

Shiro's eyes fly open and he _breathes._ He inhales like a man almost drowned, vision spotty and chest heaving.

 

He can't...he has a heartbeat again.

 

He has lungs.

 

He's _alive_.

 

These are all facts he collects distantly, tucks away in a corner of his mind for later while he focuses all his energy on inhaling and exhaling and _inhaling –_

 

Oxygen never tasted so good.

 

Breathing is an involuntary reflex, Shiro reminds himself, but it feels like work, so much so that he collapses sideways from the effort.

 

Sensations overwhelm him. His clothes itch on his body, the armor feels bulky; he feels hard ground beneath his legs and it's _uncomfortable_ ; there's bruises on his chest, his ankle, his arms, oh God, just his _arm_ , and everything _hurts_ , he'd forgotten how much things could _hurt_.

 

In his mind and in his ears, Black roars with happiness and that is too much, too loud. He can't remember the last time he actually _heard_ her.

 

Blinking, he finds that the sun seems too bright to be real overhead. Then – then his eyes catch on Keith. Keith, who's propping him up, who smiles down at him, whose hands feel _warm_ and oh, this is what it feels like, Shiro remembers now.

 

“You found me.” He whispers.

 

He's in awe. He'd been sure – Black hadn't saved his body – his soul was tethered to hers but the tether had frayed and he'd thought –

 

 

He was a ghost fading away –

 

Yet here he lays, his team around him, staring _at_ him and not through him. Over half of them are in tears. They're all smiling.

 

It makes the pain of living worth it.

 

Keith says,

 

“We're glad you're back, Shiro.”

 

And Allura says,

 

“Rest.”

 

Even though that feels like all he's done since he died, even though he wants to embrace his team and catch up with them, Shiro feels his eyes slipping closed. Consciousness flees from him immediately.

 

And he sleeps, a smile on his lips.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Shiro for Black Paladin all the way. 
> 
> So this is my take on how Shiro spent his time in the Astral Plane. I think it would be really disorienting and frustrating to be essentially a ghost. Shiro isn't afraid of death but I think it would really wear him down to have to watch his family and not be able to help them or talk to them. And thus this 7k angsty fic was born. 
> 
> Some of this is dialogue is straight from canon - some of it I tweaked because Kuron deserved better, damn it. He was mind-controlled, it wasn't his fault. RIP Kuron. 
> 
> I want to write a sequel to this about Shiro recovering from the astral plane (sorry, season 7 didn't have enough Shiro content for me, especially Shiro-as-a-paladin content. I really really miss him as Black Paladin, okay?). That might take some time though, because my college classes begin tomorrow. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this! Please comment and tell me what you think :D


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